Snowblind
by mav32
Summary: One-shot. A seemingly routine crime scene turns into a life or death struggle for the team.


A/N: I was stranded at my sister's during a snow storm, so of course I came up with this. Enjoy!

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><p>The cold enveloped him in an instant, swallowing him completely into its depths. His entire body seized up with the shock of it, stealing the breath from his lungs. Struggling only made it worse. His taught muscles screamed in protest. The slightest movement broke the ice encircling him, driving the glass-like splinters deeper into his flesh, but he continued to fight. He had to.<p>

It was pulling him deeper, its grip on him tightening with every second. The more he fought, the stronger its hold on him became until the cold erupted into white hot flames encasing his very existence. The fire licked at his flesh while the ice sunk into his bones until there was nothing but the two competing elements, fighting for dominance over what remained.

The battle raged on as darkness closed in. He couldn't fight anymore. The pain was too great, the foe too strong. Maybe he couldn't win, but he could ensure that they didn't have the last say. He latched onto the blackness and pulled it closer, letting it engulf him as the enemy slowly faded into the background… and then disappeared.

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><p>I watched it happen- didn't even see it coming. I'd been on this job long enough to know when something was about to go wrong, but not this.<p>

It had started routine enough. A body was found in the park. It wasn't too late, but we were in the depths of the worst winter on record and the sun had set hours ago. I could see my breath condensing in the light of the work lamps surrounding the crime scene. They actually served to keep the area a few degrees warmer than it was outside the yellow tape, but cold was cold. 32 degrees or 3, it was still freezing.

My fingers were already numb by the time Mac and Stella showed up. I nearly dropped my memo book several times while fishing it out of my pocket and flipping through the relevant notes. Stella grinned in amusement while Mac just raised an eyebrow and waited patiently for me to regain control of my frozen limbs.

"How long have you been out here, Don?" Stella asked me. One gloved hand toted her kit while the other was buried deep in her knee-length winter coat. Clearly she had just come from the warm confines of a car and the cold hadn't managed to seep through to her bones yet like it had mine.

My lips were as equally numb and uncooperative as my hands. "Half hour." I ended up mumbling my words, but her amusement turned to sympathy which, although it did nothing to warm me up, was much appreciated.

Mac, sporting the Crime Lab's issued parka over his suit and already donning his latex gloves, nodded toward the body, which was lying prone in six inches of powdery snow. The jeans were soaked through and shining with a thin layer of ice. A mop of dark hair stuck out from under a puffy jacket, resting on top of a small pool of congealed and frozen blood. "What have we got?" Always straight to business, that man. I wasn't complaining, however. The faster I got these guys going, the faster I could retreat to someplace warm.

"Male. Caucasian. Between 30 and 35 years-old. Body was found around 8:30 by a pair of joggers. They say they didn't see anything else out of the ordinary. Just spotted it off the trail and called it in. Can't say how long it's been here. Only those two were crazy enough to be running at night in this weather."

Stella shivered as she set down her kit and stepped closer, careful not to disturb the snow surrounding the body. "Any ID?"

"Not on him. I'm the only one who's been near the body. These footprints here are mine. These look like the vic's. Looks like there may have been a scuffle here." The recently fallen snow was churned up and compacted in a small area next to the body. All that told me was that this could be the primary crime scene, but I knew somehow Mac and Stella could probably find something in it to identify the killer's home town or at least his favorite dessert.

"Cold is going to make it difficult to identify time of death." Mac said, cocking his head as he surveyed the scene with eyes that picked out the tiniest of details most trained cops would overlook. "It stopped snowing around 6. That would put his death sometime between then and an hour ago."

"We've got head trauma here- could be the cause of death." Stella suggested, crouching down a few feet away from the body and shining her flashlight over it despite the ample lighting provided by the work lights.

"Stella, start with the overalls and stick with the body. I'll work the perimeter." Mac offered. If Mac wasn't one of the most selfless people I knew, I would have thought he took the perimeter so he could at least keep moving to try to stave off the cold. In reality, he probably did it because A; bodies were usually the more interesting part of the crime scene and B; he would feel better if she stayed in the safety of the lights this late at night in the middle of the park. A few uniforms were still milling about, but if job taught me anything, it was that people did crazy, stupid things, especially when they were criminals.

Mac stepped carefully outside of the glow of the crime scene and scanned the snow with his flashlight. I stepped back to watch and answer any questions they had, but my role was basically done. I swung my arms and clapped my gloved hands together in an attempt to pull blood back into my extremities. All I got for my efforts was the stinging, pins and needles pain that seems to be the last sensation available to numb flesh.

"Flack, did you see these before?" Mac called to me. He was standing about 20 feet away from the circle of lamps now, his light sweeping back and forth over a line of snow in front of him.

Careful to step in Mac's footprints, I approached him and saw what he was motioning to- more footprints, leading further off the path and into the trees. I shook my head. "First I've seen 'em." I admitted. "I didn't see any prints leading here from the body."

"These come from the trail." Mac said, marking the path with his flashlight. "Just seems odd for someone to veer off the sidewalk and head straight for the trees."

I nodded. "Yeah, a bit."

"These are recent." Now, I don't know how he knew that, but I usually took Mac at his word. He followed the footprints and I trailed after him curiously, glancing back occasionally to see how far we'd traveled from the body where Stella was diligently taking photos.

We reached the tree-line and had to fight our way through a stand of prickly bushes to go any farther. The barren trees did little to shield the ground from the snow, but the ground was less smooth here than near the trail, making tracks harder to spot. Mac and I had to split up just to find them again.

After a few minutes, I heard his voice, dampened by the snow and trees, calling out. "I found it, Flack!"

It was harder to discern the origin of the voice than I thought and wandered blindly in the general direction I'd last seen Mac heading in. My flashlight finally fell upon a set of tracks and I followed them instead. "Mac?" I called after a minute, wondering why I hadn't run into him already. I didn't realize how far we'd gotten from each other.

I heard a branch crack in the eerie silence and immediately flipped open my coat, cold forgotten, and revealed my holster. I didn't hear anything else for a minute and was certain the weather had seeped into my brain tissue and was making me paranoid. Snow muffled most noises around me, and had probably swallowed my own voice. "Mac!" I called again, louder this time.

Then I heard him, much closer this time, and we weren't alone. "Hey! NYPD! Don't move!"

I picked up my pace and my flashlight finally landed upon the dark blue of Mac's jacket ahead of me. His gun was out and pointing at someone I couldn't see. I approached cautiously, my own gun now drawn. I emerged into a small clearing, Mac on one side, and a man dressed in dark clothing on the other. As soon as my light landed on the mystery person, he bolted.

Mac glanced at me for a split second, making sure I was with him, and then took off after the man. I reached for my radio and relayed a distress signal and our approximate location as I dodged tree trunks and bushes.

I was still a good 30 yards behind them when I found myself suddenly free of the trees and back on the main trail. Mac was just closing in on the suspect as they came upon a bridge that spanned the frozen lake running through the park. The running man didn't make it halfway across the bridge before Mac was on him, ramming into his back and pinning him against the waist-high railing.

Mac had already secured one of the suspect's hands and was reaching for the other when it happened. The suspect pulled his hand out of his coat. Gripped in it was an object that glinted in the orange glow of a nearby street lamp. Before Mac could compensate, the man had twisted and brought the object down hard across the side of Mac's head with a sickening crack that whipped through the still night and hit me directly in the chest.

I was still too far. It was happening too quickly.

Mac, dazed and momentarily stunned, was helpless to defend against the next attack. The man grabbed him and shoved him against the barrier, and I watched as Mac slowly flipped backwards over the metal rail.

He fell from my sight. Then I heard the splash.

Still too far.

The man was gone when I reached the bridge, but he was the least of my worries. I leaned over the railing, flashlight frantically scanning the frozen waters. There was a break 10 feet below me- a singular hole in the ice, and nothing else.

"Mac!"

10 seconds passed.

20…

I sprinted back off the bridge and reached the water's edge, shedding my jacket and gun as I went. I made one last call for help on my radio before ditching that as well.

Not stopping to contemplate the thickness of the ice, I stepped out onto it and army-crawled my way to the icy death trap my friend had fallen through. I was only feet away when I heard it start to crack under me, but it was too late to turn back. One more move was all it took for the ice to give way.

I slipped in, head first. The shock stole the breath right from my lungs. My muscles immediately cramped in the sudden cold. I forced myself to cease my frantic flailing and determined which way was up before swimming again. My head broke the surface and I sucked in precious air, burning my airways in the process, but I didn't care. I found the spot Mac had disappeared and dove right back under.

It was pitch black. Opening my eyes was useless and only brought immense pain, so I threw my arms out, blindly searching for Mac.

I had to return to the surface one more time before my completely unfeeling hands bumped into something solid. I forced them to grab hold and kicked frantically, propelling myself upward through the water. My head broke the surface for the third time, gulping in oxygen as I yanked up the object in my hand.

Another head emerged from the water, but this one wasn't taking in the much needed air. His lips were blue, his skin pale, almost glowing compared to the dark curls plastered to his forehead. His head lolled lifelessly as I grabbed onto his jacket, and pulled him along behind me toward the shore.

There were voices now, calling out to me, but I didn't notice.

The thinner sheets of ice disintegrated under me I dragged my lifeless charge behind me. I continued until the ice became too thick to break through. I uselessly tried to haul both myself and Mac up onto the shelf, but I was too weak, too cold.

That's when I finally took notice of the voices.

"Don!" Stella, backed up by no less than 6 uniforms, was running toward me.

I tried to yell out a warning, that it was too dangerous to come out on the ice, but my mouth wasn't working. It would have been useless anyways. Stella was the lightest of the bunch and had the best chance of stepping onto the ice safely. She quickly made her way toward us. With impressive and certainly inhuman strength, she grabbed Mac's body from my hands and dragged him up onto the ice. She then immediately did the same for me.

Officers met us closer to shore and took Mac from our arms, carrying him swiftly to the bank where they laid him on one of the officer's jackets, stripping him of his own soaking wet coat as they did so. Stella and another uniform latched onto either one of my arms and supported me until we reached solid ground where I collapsed a short distance from the unmoving body of my friend.

Someone pulled my discarded, but dry jacket over my shoulders, and I hardly noticed. Stella was still gripping tightly onto my arm as we looked on at the scrambling officers.

"He's not breathing! Starting compressions."

"Officer down, non-responsive…"

"Where's that bus?"

"Tommy, go out to the road, lead them in here."

"Detective Flack… Detective Flack."

I vaguely recognized the officer kneeling in front of me, but I didn't care much to remember his name. My eyes were immediately drawn back to Mac as hands mercilessly beat down on his chest, the steady rhythm broken only when another officer bent down to force air into the lifeless body.

"Detective Flack." He said again. "Sir, we need to get you taken care of. Come on,"

No, no, no… I knew this tactic. Hell, I used this tactic, encouraging away the worried family/friends of a victim before things got ugly-…uglier. Not me, no. I wasn't leaving until Mac himself told me to.

I was shaking violently, too much to be able to voice my opinion, but my eyes worked fine. I sent the officer a glare, which, to his credit, he didn't flinch away from. Only Stella's unsteady assurance that she would look after me made the cop back away, but not much. He stood by, waiting, just like the rest of us.

Jackson was the name of the officer performing CPR. His determination never wavered with each set of compressions, but his partner's expression grew increasingly hopeless. Stella's grip on my arm was weakening.

30 then 2…30 then 2… I stopped noticing my own pain as I became transfixed by the sight in front of me. 30 compressions, 2 breaths.

This wasn't happening… It couldn't be. Not to Mac Taylor. Not to me. The man was invincible. He'd not only survived an explosion, but saved me from it. He was my mentor, my friend. He'd never given up on me, and I sure as hell wasn't about to give up on him.

30 then 2…

I suddenly crawled forward on my barely functioning limbs and grabbed Mac's frozen arm in my hand. "Come on, Mac…" I muttered, forcing my mouth to form the words.

Jackson gave 30 compressions. His partner gave 2 rescue breaths.

Still nothing.

"Mac, please…"

I felt Stella next to me again. This time she grabbed my other hand with both of hers. Tears were streaming down her face. I gripped her hands as best I could, trying to reassure her. I wasn't going to let Mac off that easy.

I let go of his arm and grabbed his hand instead.

30 compressions…

"Dammit, Mac. Don't you dare die on me. Come on!"

2 rescue breaths…

…and then a sputtering cough.

Inexpressible relief filled me as I clumsily tried to help Jackson turn Mac onto his side, allowing him to expel the rest of the water from his lungs and replace it with much needed oxygen. The shuddering breaths continued as Mac started to shake. Jackson held him steady as he wrapped another officer's jacket around him.

Stella buried her face in my shoulder as I put my arm around her.

I didn't realize I was still grasping Mac's hand until I felt the pressure of his grip on mine through the numbing chill that still had a hold on my body. I watched his eyes slowly flutter open, landing first on Stella. She reached over me and placed her hand on his cheek. He managed a small, shaky smile.

His eyes shifted away from Stella and locked onto mine.

All I could do was squeeze his hand.

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><p>AN: I'd love to hear what you think! Please leave a review.


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